My Deadly Cure
by Ienyu
Summary: Living in a bio-nightmare,it seemed hopeless for Ichigo.As a last stand,his father decideds to send him to Las Noches Hospital. Though not all cures come free of side-effects,the deadliest being love. HichixIchi and slight GrimmxIchi.


My Deadly Cure

A/N: Oh hey there. I had some free time to work on some of my fics, but in the end I just gave them a few tweaks here and there. So here I am; I believe three years later. I may have added hints of GrimmIchi. I've been deprived, I couldn't help it. As an added note, for many of the Arrancar I'm going to address them using their first name if used informally, such as rather than Mila Rose, I'm using Franceska. In addition, Ichigo is currently 17. Just thought I'd state that in somewhere. (owo;) =3 =3 =3

Lastly, breaking news! I decided every update will have at least 2,500 words. Sad, but it's pretty groundbreaking for me xD (Erhem, including author notes at the beginning and end.) But in correlation to that, becasue I tend to get sloppy, if there are any spelling errors or things of the like, please _message_ me! Though messages just because are nice too -w- Ok now I'm getting off topic.

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A cold sweat ran down his spine as another heavy feeling ran through his veins followed by tremors that shook his entire body, completely disappearing before starting up again. So badly he wanted to get up and shake the horrid feeling, but his legs burned as if they were on fire and prevented him from moving without the fire spreading to his lungs as he pathetically wheezed.

Not even four months ago he had been a healthy teenager in his prime. His voice didn't crack as he spoke nor did he rely on narcotics to keep away the pain.

Now however…

But it wasn't his fault this was happening. He hadn't contracted any sort of bacterial or viral infection nor was he weak and succumb to over-exertion. This was something different, something unlike any medical professional in the area had seen before in their careers. One doctor had proposed it was something related to the brain. A scan proved that theory wrong. Another supposed it was something in the nerves. Yet another plausible theory proved incorrect. This was unlike any disease anyone could even dream of; a wretched bio-nightmare which cruelly kept him alive so to feed of what little he had left.

Turning his head jadedly, he stared with vacant eyes at his once vivacious father who sat anxiously at the edge of his bed. It was his entire fault his family had to suffer as well. Once he had fallen ill, his dad, who worked as a private clinic doctor, had stopped accepting all entries into the treatment center. Both his younger sisters quit all after-school activities to watch him. It had been weeks since they had spent time living their own lives rather than acting as nurses to their elder brother.

Couldn't he just die already?

_'Don't hold your breath.'_

The teens eyes went wide at hearing its' voice inside his mind again, eyes moving furiously in their sockets. _'L-leave me alone!'_

_'If you die, I die. Your body is mine, and always will be.'_

He hissed in distain, clutching the sheets

Isshin turned away. Getting up from his seat, he leaned against the far wall with his forearm and took a deep breath in before he turned back to Ichigo and delicately brushed a few strands of hair off the moist forehead.

"Son, can you hear me?" He continued when Ichigo gave a weak nod. "It was… a hard decision for me to make, but I've agreed to release you to an actual hospital where they can take better care of you there than we can here. The medical board- I mean I… believe you have a better chance at a real hospital where they can more easily research whatever thing has infected you."

Ichigo stiffened; jolting forward which triggered a coughing fit that left him buckling over. Laying the protesting form back down, Isshin gave his son a stern look which truly held no real force. The past few months had left him too drained and had disabled him to show any previous parental force he may have had with Ichigo. Never had he thought he would miss their frequent shouting matches, or being thrown down the stairs from the force of the others kick.

"Please don't argue Ichigo. They have some of the best doctors and latest technolo-"

"But Dad!" The ocher-eyed teen croaked, not have used his voice in some time. He was going to be relocated? There was a sort of childish fear in leaving the confines in which he had lay he could not explain.

"Please." The long-faced man pleaded sternly. "Please just go. I can't stand seeing my only son in so much pain…"

Ichigo looked back at the man who sat before him. Large dark rings hung under his eyes which by now had lost all glimmer of optimism, pockets of saline liquid pooling in the folds as he…. Cried? Pushing his backside against the headboard, he steadily got up from his lying position and watched as his father cried for the first time since his diagnostics came in. After a moment of silence, he nodded solemnly. Putting aside his selfishness in the matter, it wasn't worth it. He couldn't let his presence continue to strain his family as much as it had. They had sacrificed so much for him, and it was already clear their efforts were no match for what they were up against. Trepidation still evident, he reluctantly agreed.

It took the remainder of the day until an ambulance came to take him away. In that time, his family busily gathered whatever was needed for his indefinite-long stay, which they packed tightly into a cardboard box.

Have had taken a particularly large dose of fentanyl, most of the basic aches and pains had subsided. As a result, he deduced it as okay to decline a wheelchair against his best judgment and made his way downstairs and out the door. As soon as he reached the white vehicle however, a crippling shock hit his calve and he buckled into the paramedic beside him. Behind him, he heard his dad's startled cry, but before he could wave off his eccentric fathers concern he was suddenly lifted off the ground and over the burly man's shoulder who uttered a call of "Don't worry Kurosaki-san, I got him."

Disconcerted, the teen contemplated kneeing the man in the gut, and four months ago he would have. But the fentanyl's full effects were kicking in. His body was gradually being enveloped into a cocoon of inviting numbness. Before he knew it, he was out cold.

As cliché as it may sound, as he slept, his head resting against a pillow someone paced between his shoulder, he was brought to a simpler time. It was very late, the moon dipping into the black silhouettes of the hills; a large pearl nestled in rolls of satin. Sitting at the top of an incline that cupped the town's river they sprawled in the grass. His mother's arms occupied with his two eight month-old sisters, he had wandered away from his family to the riverbank in order to explore. Crouching by the dark water that shimmered serenely, he inquisitively dragged a thin stick across the smooth surface of the water, skimming the black mirror in long, elegant ripples. Suddenly something else had grabbed his attention, being a four year old with both a very short attention span and keen interest in shiny objects. From the ground had risen a small iridescent globe of light, flitting innocently about before disappearing up into the sky. Soon another had followed suite, and then another and another, until within a minute the night sky was filled with these orbs.

Mouth agape in awe, he had provided a space that intrigued one of these spheres, which quickly flew into his open mouth in curiosity. Coughing, he clutched his throat as if severely choking, falling backwards.

Had grown weary of the moist cave, the small orb flew back out, curiosity sated.

Running back to where his parents sat, he frantically pulled at his dad's sleeve as he told him about the spirit that had tried to possess him. With a pat on the head, his father had dismissed his fears, explaining that it was just a firefly that wanted to say hello. Privately to his mother, his father had agreed that he should not have in fact allowed the small boy to watch the documentary on the paranormal the night before.

A little put off at the insouciance to the recent attack on his soul, the small boy pouted and trudged back to the riverside. Resuming his previous activity, he once again disturbed the stillness of the river in favor of smacking it with the stick.

"Hey."

He ignored the voice.

"Hey!"

Disregarded it once again.

"Come on, wake up princess."

He furrowed his brow, and through the haze of slumber glared into the eyes of the perpetrator to his peacefully subconscious recollection. So he had fallen asleep.

"Do you hear me? We don't have all day for you to pull yourself out from la-la land." The other barked gruffly, teal eyes scrutinizing ones' of ocher. "What, do I have to carry you again?"

Pride slightly nicked, Ichigo half defiantly (and half due to his partly inebriated state) pushed the other out of the way of the door and slid out into the light despite the others warning to wait. Feet hitting the pavement, he immediately lifted his arm to shield his face from the onslaught of electromagnetic radiation that poured from above.

He grimaced, eyes blinking rapidly as if he had a gotten an eyelash stuck in each of them simultaneously. Had it this bright out when he had left? Actually, was the sun ever this bright? As if sensing his confusion, the man gradually got up from watching the others turmoil and pulled him back to the dark of the ambulance's back quarters.

"Idiot, we have ultra-disinfectant lights installed in all of our garages. If you don't wear protection, you could lose your vision."

Fishing into a transparent blue case that hung onto one of the walls of the ambulance, he pulled out two pairs of frameless glasses, placing one pair on himself before turning to Ichigo. Unfolding the lithe black temples, he delicately placed them upon the younger's face. For a moment, he frowned, and then readjusted the glasses like an artist would a masterpiece. As he did so, Ichigo refused to look directly at the other. The man's blue eyes seemed to intensify behind the lenses, and the feeling of the wild pools of blue being focused on him made the teen feel oddly self-conscious. Though it was only a minute, it felt like much longer before the man, nodding in satisfaction, slowly removed his hands left Ichigo's face to remove a folding wheelchair from a hook.

"Don't resist it. We don't want you getting any concussions if you were to collapse again and I couldn't grab you in time." He advised when he saw the look of distaste Ichigo gave the wheeled device.

Huffing in defeat, he allowed the other to situate his form in the chair.

The garage was exceedingly larger than anything Ichigo would have expected. Though despite its monstrous size, almost every spot was taken- emergency vehicles parked closest to the hospital's entrance for quick access, their white bodies shining in sterility. Size came at a price however, and that price was a palpable silence (other than the monorhythmic squeak of the turning wheels) that had somehow snaked itself between the two and retched something horrible that both parties unanimously established needed to be cleared away. So as the two advanced down the lot, they slowly-albeit unwillingly- began to share tidbits of conversation here and there; mostly awkward small talk about stupid things like how they were doing at the moment. Growing more confident however, they soon found it easier to talk then either had imagined, disclosing more about themselves gradually.

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, as he learnt, was a rash, highly arrogant man somewhere in his early twenties. Despite the negatives, he also had many positives. He was good with animals, but was allergic to cats. In spite of the allergy, he used to help at a shelter for strays. His father was a man named Aizen Sosuke who had abandoned him and his mother when he was young, ultimately leading to his mother's death a few years later from lack of funds to afford an important surgery. Ironically, he added bitterly, Aizen had returned just as Grimmjow entered high school and retook custody. When he graduated, rather than pursuing law like Aizen had wanted, he went into the medical field to become a surgeon.

"Unfortunately, Pops would have none of that."

"What do you mean? You're here aren't you?"

"Yeah I suppose, but my funding was cut second semester. I just barely had the verifications to get this job, so I'm pretty lucky. Even so, all I can do is drive the people who are in need, not save them."

Ichigo nodded in understanding.

As the pair approached the entrance they were met with four nurses, one of which held a clip board at her side.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, we have been expecting you."

Unlike the other three, she did not wear the same white scrubs. Rather she sported a white lab coat over black slacks and a white collared shirt, unbuttoned enough to get an eyeful of her buxom caramel breasts. If one was to look closely enough, which Ichigo definitely wasn't doing, a gothic '3' was tattooed on her right breast.

As if sensing the cross-examination of their mentor's untouchable bosom, the other three rushed to conceal the older woman 'from the unworthy eyes of dirty men'.

"Halibel-sama, please be more reserved with yourself!" One with long brown hair in thick waves pleaded as she tried to button the others shirt more, her manicured hands shaking from the resistance the shirt gave. Finally getting the button into the slit, she swore when it popped back out. "Dammit… Emilou, didn't I tell you to get a bigger size?"

"Eh? You never-"

"Quiet you three and restrain yourselves." Halibel reprimanded; the three dejectedly slumping back into position. "Now where was I. I am Tier Halibel, the director of nurses at Las Noches. These are my assistants, Franceska, Cyan, and Emilou."

They muttered uninterested greetings.

"If you would Grimmjow, bring Kurosaki to his room. He's scheduled to meet with his doctor in twenty minutes." She added, pushing up her glasses and turning with a steady click of her heels against the floor. Sliding glass doors opening, she and her three assistants disappeared inside.

"Brown-nosers as always, those three." The blue haired paramedic murmured, removing his glasses and placing them in a recycling unit as they rolled into the building. Copying example, Ichigo did the same.

Previously, he was simply impressed by the size of the parking lot. Even that paled in comparison. He wasn't sure if it was a hospital he was wheeled into, or a hotel reserved solely for those in the mile-high club. Where were the bland while walls and grotesquely colored linoleum tiles? The plasterboard ceiling and flickering fluorescent lights?

Something told the teen his stay here would be much different than all the others, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.


End file.
